


The Orgy

by Josselin



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-20
Updated: 2004-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Um, see title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Orgy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who helped out with planning and choreography...I think it's Wrenlet, Jenn, and Myrna.

Michael’s grumbling started in the elevator on the way up to the loft. “Only Brian,” he said, grunting and resting the television on his knee for a minute while he got a better grip on it, “would call you up and be like, ‘Mikey, come over, Mikey, I miss you, Mikey, I never see you, and bring your television, my boyfriend wants to watch a movie.’”

Ben chucked and reached out his arms as an offer to take the television, but Michael shook his head. “Somehow, I doubt those were Brian’s exact words.”

“Yeah, well that was the gist of it,” Michael insisted.

“Hey,” Ben said, opening his arms in a placating gesture. “At least he offered to supply the alcohol.”

Inside the loft, Michael only found more things to whine about. First was Justin’s choice of movie: “The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood?” Michael echoed incredulously, appealing to Brian, who was just rolling his eyes. “I get enough Buddhist shit at home, thanks,” Michael complained. “And if I wanted sisterhood, I’d go over to the munchers.”

Ben chuckled again and assured Michael the movie wasn’t about Buddhism, Justin insisted that Daphne said this was the best movie ever, and Brian wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders and began in a sickeningly earnest tone, “Now, Mikey, a good relationship is all about compromise and showing an interest in your partner’s hobbies—” Michael cut Brian off with a glare and was tempted to even stamp his foot when Brian started chuckling at him as well.

“We can watch whatever you want after this is over,” Justin offered, taking popcorn out of the microwave. “Ben,” Justin said, turning to the ‘fridge, “do you want a beer or anything?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Ben said.

Brian gestured for Michael to move the television over to a stool in front of the bed. “We’re going to sit on the bed?” Michael whined. “Half the guys in Pittsburgh have been in this bed.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “That’s never bothered you before,” he pointed out, turning to fiddle with something in his dresser.

“Brian can’t sit on the floor,” Justin said smarmily. “It’s hard on his back. He’s old, you know.” Brian gave him a warning glare, and Justin smiled sweetly and held out a bowl of popcorn as an offering Brian ignored.

Michael opened his mouth to protest again but suddenly Brian was there and shoving his tongue down Michael’s throat. Michael pushed Brian away after a second. “What did you give me, asshole?”

Brian just snickered in response, and grabbed a beer from Justin. “Lighten up, Mikey.”

Ben was looking warningly at Brian now. “Brian,” he started.

“Do you want to listen to him whine all night?” Justin interrupted, pointing at Michael. Ben sort of shrugged as if to concede that Brian and Justin had a point there.

“Here,” Brian said, shoving the bowl of popcorn at Michael. “You get to sit in the middle and hold the food.”

“Why do _I_ have to hold the—” Michael’s complaint was cut off that time by a handful of popcorn shoved at his face.

“Don’t get any grease stains on my duvet,” Brian warned, setting his beer on the nightstand to his right and pulling Justin down to sit between his legs. Michael scooted to the middle of the bed so Ben could sit on his other side and thought briefly about spilling the whole bowl of popcorn on the duvet just to get back at Brian, but then decided that if he wanted to die, there were better ways to go.

* * *

The movie was horrible. Half an hour in, even Justin agreed that they should turn it off and watch something else, but by that point, Ben was starting to comment on the similarities of the movie and the book, which he’d read years ago for some unknown reason, and Michael could see that Ben’s hand was starting to itch for a pencil and any second now he was going to start taking notes. Basically, this all meant that they were not allowed to turn it off until it was over and Professor Bruckner disappeared again.

Justin started to get cold and dragged a blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap around himself. Brian was in an agreeable sort of haze that had to be drug-induced. Michael thought about making some more popcorn. Right around then, Brian and Justin started making out. Brian shifted Justin around a little in his lap so they could kiss more easily. Michael rolled his eyes and got up and stuck another thing of popcorn in the microwave.

When he got back to the bed, Brian and Justin were frenching and didn’t even notice when he crawled in front of them to resume his spot in the middle. Ben had found paper and pencil and was making notes with his brow furrowed. Michael tried to pay attention to the movie, but it was really deathly dull, and it was always hard to pay attention when the couple next to you was making out. He was about to say that to Brian, just to piss him off with the “couple” part of it, when he realized that Brian and Justin weren’t actually kissing anymore. Justin had twisted around again and now had his head flopped back on Brian’s shoulder.

Michael turned back to the movie, only to be distracted a few seconds later when Justin let out a little moan. He looked over at them, and realized that underneath the blanket Justin had wrapped himself up in, Brian was jerking Justin off.

“What the fuck?” Michael shouted. “What are you doing?”

Brian just gave him a look. “Ben, I think your husband needs some help with his education.”

Ben had looked away from the screen at Michael’s first yell. “Guys,” he said, in a fond yet exasperated tone.

Justin arched his back a little bit. Michael started to throw popcorn at them. “Cut it out! We’re trying to watch a movie, here!”

Brian rolled his eyes again. “No you’re not. You’re trying to watch Justin orgasm. Here,” Brian offered, tossing off Justin’s blanket. “Does that help?”

Michael swore again. Justin opened his eyes, shivering slightly now that his blanket had been taken away, and he gave Michael this look—part heat, part satisfaction, and part come-hither—and Michael could almost feel himself begin to swoon or something ridiculous, and he cursed Brian again for giving him God knows what drugs, and he turned away from Justin to look pointedly at the television. As he was turning, he bumped Ben’s arm.

“Michael,” Ben said, sounding a little frustrated. “Either watch the movie, watch Justin, or go to sleep or something, but please stop moving around and whining.”

Michael gave Ben a brief look of irritated betrayal but couldn’t help his eyes from sneaking back over to his right towards Justin again. Looking at Justin wasn’t the problem. The problem was facing Brian’s knowing, mocking eyes over Justin’s shoulder.

Brian shifted slightly on the bed, and Justin listed to the side, and suddenly his head was on Michael’s leg, and his mouth was perilously close to Michael’s cock. Justin’s face was a little flushed, and he panted breathily, and one of Michael’s hands tangled in his hair instinctively, and he was about to do something—lift Justin’s head up or unzip his pants or protest or steal the television remote from Ben or something, damn it all—when Brian’s unoccupied hand cupped around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Brian tugged Michael back up closer to the head of the bed; Justin’s head was angled more towards the foot, and Ben’s eyes seemed to be drifting away from the television and more toward Justin’s face, and the way he kept licking his lips as if he was imagining being kissed.

Brian’s tongue was in his mouth, and Brian’s left hand was toying with the hair on the back of his head, occasionally shifting to massage his collarbone or tickle the top of his spine, and everywhere that Brian touched him seemed to vibrate, and God, that had to be the drugs.

Brian’s other hand wandered down Michael’s arm, and twined in Justin’s hair around Michael’s fingers, and with their hands occupied, their kissing felt like seals fighting on the beach, all moving heads, dodging and countering. Michael wondered absently if Justin ever wanted to tell Brian to stop _moving_ so much and just fucking kiss him already.

Michael barely noted when Ben freed his and Brian’s hands from Justin’s hair, except that now he had hands to rest on Brian’s shoulders, but when Ben bent over on the bed to kiss Justin, Michael couldn’t help but notice that. He wondered if Ben had always wanted to kiss Justin and how long he had had to wait.

Brian’s hand traveled the few inches from Justin’s hair to Michael’s crotch. He felt Michael up with adept fingers. “Does he make you hard, Mikey?” Brian whispered desperately into Michael’s ear.

Michael buried his face in Brian’s shoulder, but the temptation to turn it to the side so he could see Justin again was visceral. “God, yes,” he mumbled against Brian’s throat, not even sure entirely what he was talking about.

“Me too,” Brian grunted, pulling Michael’s leg up a little so he could get a better angle and oh God that was good. Brian was whispering almost senselessly, now, his cheek pressed against Michael’s and his hand working Michael’s crotch. “He makes me hard, Mikey, all the time, it’s his ass, and his eyes, and his tongue on his lips and oh God, his ass...”

Brian’s lips were brushing and tickling against Michael’s ear now, and Michael’s head was turned so he could see Justin, who was the only one of them not wearing any clothes, and Justin was lying across the middle of the bed like some sort of pale offering for the rest of them, giving up the flushed boy to the television God at the foot of the bed. Ben was jerking Justin off, now, taking over when Brian had left off, and he was kissing Justin, too, though it was hard for Michael to see that because Ben’s shoulders were in the way.

It was like Michael’s attention was too divided to really take in anything, whether it was the expanse of Ben’s back or the hair on Justin’s legs or the fact that this was actually Brian kissing him at this moment. His eyes were stuck on Justin and his ears were focused on Justin’s moans but his hands were on Brian’s chest, and Brian’s hair was longer than Ben’s and Brian’s waist was smaller and this was Brian, Brian, Brian--but he called Ben’s name when he came.

* * *

Justin came with a shout, and then Michael did, as if Justin’s orgasm triggered his across the bed, and maybe it was the bed that had the simultaneous orgasm mojo in it after all, and it had nothing to do with Brian or Justin. But Justin’s orgasm started a number of things, because one second Ben was thinking how perfect Justin’s mouth was, and the next his hand was covered with Justin’s come and he was staring up the bed to make eye contact with Brian. Brian looked as though he was all of a sudden confused about why Michael was leaning against his shoulder, and then stared intently at Justin and Ben with a strange possessiveness in his eyes. Brian lay Michael down on the bed and scooted down to rest a hand on Justin’s hip.

Justin took Ben’s hand and raised it to his lips, licking it clean, and Christ, that went straight to his dick, but something—and it might have been Brian’s sudden glare—was telling Ben that this was a very bad idea, and probably he should be going.

“I should get Michael home,” Ben announced, his eyes still focused on Brian, and he gently drew his hand away from Justin’s lips with a last caress of his cheek.

Justin mumbled something about the “hottest guy in Pittsburgh” and made a little hum of protest, but Brian nodded at Ben and distracted Justin with a hand wandering up his chest. Ben pulled the suddenly sleepy Michael off the bed, slinging one of Michael’s arms over his shoulders and stepping toward the door. He stopped for a second to glance at the television.

Brian had flipped Justin over on the bed, but looked up to meet Ben’s gaze. “Go,” Brian said. “I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

Ben nodded, took another step, and then looked back again. Brian was lowering his head to Justin’s ass. “Can you bring the movie over, too?” Ben asked. “I want to finish watching it.”

Brian rolled his eyes, but Ben took that as a yes.

* * *

The next morning, Michael came stumbling out of the bedroom and clutching his head like he was dying. He collapsed at the kitchen table. “Hunter,” he said, and Hunter looked up from his cereal. “This is why you should never, ever do drugs,” Michael informed him. Michael turned to Ben over at the blender. “Did we go out last night?” he asked.

“Uh,” Ben slurped his shake, “why don’t we talk about it later?” he suggested.

Michael gave a little shrug and then buried his head in his arms on the table. “Just shoot me now,” he begged.

“What happened to the tv?” Hunter asked.

* * *

By the next weekend Michael had forgotten about all his vows to give up clubbing and drugs and drinking and recreation, and they found themselves at Babylon. Brian was unusually silent the whole night, even for him, and spent most of it clutching Justin to himself tightly, as though that might ward off any questions.

Finally Justin managed to escape Brian’s hands in his collar, back pocket, belt loop, and hair, and was on the dance floor having some sort of contest with Emmett—it looked like they were trying to figure out who could come up with the dumbest dance move. Brian kept careful watch from the bar, and kept careful space between him and Michael sitting next to him, too, but Michael didn’t seem to really notice, explaining the latest issue of Rage. Michael could be kind of oblivious and sometimes that was his most endearing trait. Ben tried not to watch Justin dance too much anyway.

Michael ran off to the bathroom, and Brian tore his eyes away from Justin to shoot Ben a look.

“I don’t think Michael remembers much,” Ben said.

Brian didn’t react for a second. Ben thought briefly that maybe Brian was going to play dumb and also pretend to not remember anything, but finally Brian nodded, slowly.

“He was pretty out of it,” Ben continued, and Brian shot him a sharp look for that. Ben wondered if there were any sort of repercussions for Brian and Justin, or if Brian had just rolled Justin over and fucked him and that was the end of it. In Brian’s world, it seemed like only the most recent fuck mattered, or something.

Ben wondered if Brian thought about the moral aspect of letting your drugged boyfriend join an orgy with the guy he’s been in love with for years, about the moral aspect of jerking off a beautiful guy when you’re in a supposedly monogamous relationship, but he kind of doubted Brian thought of things in that light. On the other hand, Brian’s eyes were glaring at some guy who was starting to try to dance with Justin now, so he shouldn’t underestimate these things. But with Brian, it wouldn’t be about morality, of course. It’d be about sex.

Michael reappeared from the bathroom, and Ben stripped off his shirt and pulled Michael out on to the dance floor as well, trying to stay away from where Justin was without looking like he was trying to stay away from where Justin was, and as he closed his eyes and felt Michael’s body press against his, he had to wonder if Brian was right and it was all about sex.

* * *

A month later the “incident” was all but forgotten when Emmett sat down with Ben and Michael at the diner one morning. He announced that since things between him and Teddy were so good now, they wanted to invite Ben and Michael over one evening as kind of a date.

“Sounds like fun,” Michael agreed. “When?”

“Maybe Saturday?” Emmett suggested. “We were thinking of maybe renting something, but Ted only likes opera and I tried to convince him that musicals are a lot _like_ opera—”

“A movie?” Ben said, coughing a bit. “You know, I think I have a faculty meeting that evening...”

THE END


End file.
